


A Hand in the Matter?

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne have come back to King's Landing a little sooner. Jaime has lost his hand. Joffrey is still alive, and so is Lord Tywin. Meeting between Brienne, Jaime, and his father in the Hand's solar after the reception at court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand in the Matter?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irismoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismoon/gifts).



> I've written this in response to Irismoon's prompt on Tumblr.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own my works of fanfiction/fanart. I do not profit from the stories or drawings, nor would I  
> ever seek to do so. All credit for characters, plot and settings go to the respective original author or artist.

Jaime stomped into the solar after his father. Brienne followed suit in more measured steps.

“He threw me out? Joffrey? My... nephew? Out of the King's Guard?” Jaime frothed. “That's your doing, isn't it?”

 

By then, his father had reached his desk and spun around. His green-golden eyes were like cold, glittering emerald with little inclusions.

“You've lost your hand, son. What good are you as the king's security guard? It's the logical thing to do. You can't be Joffrey's sentinel anymore. But you can do your duty to the realm and become my heir again. It's what you should have been all the time. The Westerlands need you. The Lannisters need you.”

 

“Pfft!” Jaime uttered. “Tyrion would be the better choice, and you know it. He's more intelligent. I can't even write properly – and even less so now, what without a sword hand.”

 

Lord Lannister stared at him.

“Tyrion is a disfigured gnome, that's all the world will ever see in him, and thus, he can't keep our family strong. And writing won't be your problem. You can have a scribe. But you cannot have someone to fight in your stead as a king's guard. No. What you need is to settle down, take a wife, sire children. Legitimate children. I'll write to the lords with adequate daughters and arrange something for you. Speaking of women – what is this big cow in armour doing in here?”

 

Jaime stiffened.

“Her name is Brienne. Brienne of Tarth. Does that ring a bell?”

He turned around and took the wench's hand. Her eyebrows rose, and her looks flickered from him to his father.

 

“What's the meaning of this sorry behaviour?” Lord Lannister snapped.

Jaime glowered back at him. He felt like he had done on the day he had entered the King's Guard: the same rebellious spirit of foiling his father's plans.

 

“This, Lord Father, is the woman I've come to love,” Jaime declared. “I'll marry nobody else but her.”

He thought of Cersei and wondered whether he was lying or not – and if yes, to what extent.

 

His father blinked.

“You mean this...?”

For once, Lord Lannister faltered and simply made a gesture at Brienne.

It only served to lend Jaime strength.

 

“Yes. This woman. She's a wonderful woman. She CAN fight in my stead, you know? And she's of good pedigree, an heiress. Something I don't care about, but you would, wouldn't you? And of an even better character; something you wouldn't care about, but I do. I say: it's either her or no-one.”

 

Inwardly, he apologised to Brienne, because he knew he wasn't leaving her a chance to decide. He looked at her, and her eyes were huge, sapphire orbs.

“You love me?” she peeped, and she didn't sound like a confident shieldmaid at all, but like a little, romantic girl who had been told too many romantic stories.

Jaime's heart clenched.

 _“How naïve she still is,”_ he realised.

 

He pretended to fall silent, pretended to listen to his heart. What he had not expected was that his heart would actually answer, and he rubbed the nape of his neck while he noticed the wild pounding in his chest.

“Yes,” he said and realised – to his own eternal astonishment – that he wasn't lying at all.

It was the very moment when his father became unimportant. The old lion couldn't say anything against the match anyway.

 

A week later, Jaime and Brienne walked down the aisle of the sept in the Red Keep. He noticed Cersei's poisonous glances and felt melancholic, because their relationship was coming to this sort of end. His sister had tried to intervene, but without success.

 

At the same time, Jaime noticed Brienne's excitement, and he took her hand to give her some reassurance.

 _“She looks like a man, and most of the time, she behaves like one,”_ Jaime thought. _“But underneath, she's a woman. And a good woman at that. She only doesn't know yet. I'll try to help her be a woman – and to be confident and strong at the same time.”_

 

Then, Brienne smiled at him, and he grinned back at her.

 _“Looks like it'll be an easy task,”_ Jaime surmised.

He craned his neck and whispered into her ear: “I may not have a sword hand, wench, but tonight, I'll show you I can still sheathe a sword.”

 

While they were speaking their vows, fingers entwined, Jaime asked whether Brienne was flushing crimson in other places, too. Aaah, but that was only a matter of very little time until he'd find out...


End file.
